


Silence in the Bookshop

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crack, Episode: s04e08 Silence in the Library, Gabriel dies but not really, M/M, Vashta Nerada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21812362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Crowley sputtered, blowing air through his closed mouth so that his lips flapped. “I’ve been out and about, learning new things about the universe that God had given us and all. And I changed my Bentley into a TARDIS.”“A what?”“A TARDIS!” Crowley replied excitedly. “It’s a ship that stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space! I’ve been able to travel everywhere in the universe, now I can travel through time as well!”“You have been missing for days, demon!” Aziraphale hissed. “It’s a Thursday, and I have a dead angel in my bookshop, demon! Heaven is going to be absolutely furious with me because I have a dead angel in my bookshop, and I have no idea how that happened! What am I going to do?”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: Oh Come All Ye Sinful! A Depraved Holiday Exchange 2019





	Silence in the Bookshop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tezca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tezca/gifts).



> This is the second time in two months that I worked on a Doctor Who fic. Hope you like it Tezca! Beta'ed by the wonderful Kazeetie.

Aziraphale slipped the key into the keyhole of his bookshop. He  _ could _ just miracle it open and enter, but there was something distinctly satisfying as the tumbler lifted and fell with the pins of the key. As he turned the key, however, he paused. There was a wave of something sinister from inside, and it was like it was warning him to stay away - flee from it and never look back. But it was silly. It was  _ his _ bookshop, and he would not run from his own shop.

“Whoever is in there,” Aziraphale said to the still-closed doors of his shop, “I am coming in, and I am going to miracle you away! Because I can, and although my demon is normally the one who does the dirty deeds, I am not above doing it too when I need to do so! Also, I don’t really know where he is right now because he’s been gone for days. But anyway, that’s not as important as you invading my bookshop. So God help me, I will be coming in and fighting, because this is  _ my _ bookshop, and I will not let you harm my books!”

There was no answer predictably, and the evil presence did not go away. With a deep breath, Aziraphale opened the door roughly.

Well, he tried to at least. On a normal day the door would open easily under his hand. Today, it was stopped by an obstacle that was behind the door, but it left a big enough crack to let one particular angel through. Aziraphale slipped in through it, alert and tense. He really wished he had his sword right now; it would have been very helpful with whatever was going on in his bookshop. He also didn’t appreciate that there was something evil in there - he loved his books, and he would defend them at all costs. Inside, Azirapahale’s bookshop was dark, illuminated only by the light from the crack of the door, and he snapped his fingers to create light. While he did not normally like to miracle things, it was a unique occasion that required it. Immediately, the candles illuminated the room, and Aziraphale looked down to see a heavy tome on the floor being used as a makeshift door jamb. He crouched down, peering at it.

_ “Even More Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter?” _ he read, staring at the book in wonderment. All other thoughts slipped away as he reached out towards it. He murmured, “I didn’t know she wrote a second book, but to have a second one in my hands, when the first one was so prophetic?”

Aziraphale stopped short, fingers hovering over the tome. He looked towards the door, then back down again. He sighed, grimacing and closing his hand into a fist. “Must I open shop?” he asked himself because there was no one else to hear him. Then he huffed and stood up reluctantly, flipping the sign over so that “closed” became “open.”

“Oh, what wouldn’t I give to keep the shop closed!” he mourned, finally picking up the book from the floor. It was a nice, weighted book, and Aziraphale inhaled deeply, smelling the musty smell of old papers and taking delight in it. He couldn’t wait to read it. He supposed he could close up shop and burrow himself into the book; it wasn’t like he needed the money anyway, but Mister Smith would be dropping by to pick up some books and Missus Jones wanted to sell her collection of the  _ original _ Sherlock Holmes books. And he did so love the mystery of Holmes. Still, as much as he loved the mystery of Holmes, it didn’t compare to the rarity of the book. After carressing the cover one last time, he placed the book on his desk, letting it rest on top of all his other books stacked neatly at the center of his table. He promised, “I will come back to read you.”

Mister Smith dropped by and picked up his books, then some customers entered and stayed, curling up on the couch to read. Missus Jones arrived and left in the afternoon, leaving Aziraphale with a beautiful set of old books. Then a customer came up to Aziraphale and asked him a question, and it forced him to engage with his customers for a good several hours. Throughout the day, he would glance back at his desk, where the tome was sitting innocently on top of all the other books, and his fingers twitched towards it. He  _ wanted _ to read it, but not while people were still in his shop.

By twilight (which was only two in the afternoon), Aziraphale glanced over at his desk more and more often. He wanted everyone to  _ go, _ but he kept a stiff smile plastered on his face and palms fisted by his side to stop himself from throwing everyone out before closing time.

The door chimed as it opened, then chimed again, reverberating throughout the room. “Hello!” a cheery voice called out, sing-song. “Aziraphale!”

“Oh God,” Aziraphale muttered under his breath. “What now.” He cleared his throat and stepped from behind his bookcase, keeping a fake smile on his face. “Hello Gabriel. I see that you’re by yourself today. What can I do for you?”

Gabriel gave him a grin that Aziraphale didn’t like at all, stepping into Aziraphale’s space and forcing him to move back. “Oh, I would  _ love _ some more pornography for my collection! Is there anywhere we can talk in private?”

It was like the  man angel never learned, and Aziraphale, despite wanting to murder Gabriel, nodded placidly and gestured. “For sure. Please step inside my office.”

As soon as they entered into the semi-private space of his office, Gabriel said lowly, “Aziraphale, where is the demon Crowley?”

Aziraphale wanted to laugh. That was the question he’d been asking himself for the past several days. He said as much to Gabriel. “Why do you even care?” Azirapahale asked, nearly laughing. Crowley wasn’t supposed to even be on the radar, what with the fact that he was such a lesser-ranking demon. Although, Aziraphale had to admit, sabotaging the end of the world could grant you a stop as top of the shit list in both Heaven and Hell.

“We need to know where he is because he has been tempting our angels to  _ dance,” _ Gabriel growled, “and that is not acceptable!”

Aziraphale reared back. “You know, dancing is not a sin,” he pointed out.

“They are  _ twerking.” _ Gabriel was petulant, crossing his arms over his chest. “I do not know why Crowley thinks it is okay for angels to partake in something sinful, but it needs to stop. I do not like it, the higher ups do not like it, and God  _ certainly _ does not like it.”

“I’m not his keeper though,” Aziraphale said.

Gabriel huffed. “Just do it.”

“Okay,” he replied slowly. He was mostly confused by the turn of events. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Great, thanks.” Gabriel grinned before he said loudly, “Wow! These pornography books really are something!”

Aziraphale blushed and quietly groaned, resisting the urge to smack his palm against his forehead. He smiled instead.

“Two days, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said. “Then we’re going to hunt Crowley down and eliminate him.”

While Gabriel’s back was turned, Aziraphale sighed quietly. This was just  _ embarrassing. _ At the very least, however, that (not so) illuminating talk brought him closer to closing time, and he instinctively looked over towards his desk again. He wanted to read the book so very badly. When the seconds hand finally ticked past five o’clock, Aziraphale gleefully shooed his patrons away, flipping the signpost to “closed.” He couldn’t  _ wait _ to pick up the book again, read its contents. The fireplace was piping hot and cozy, the lights of the candles flickered, and Aziraphale settled into his seat comfortably, picking up his eternally warm tea. He sipped it, settled it far away from the rest of his books, and clapped his hands together eagerly. Then he opened the book.

“Prophecy one,” Aziraphale read softly, “The angel remains, the bookshop is a forest of silence, stay in the light, for the darkness awaits.”

He looked over, where a candle was snuffed out. Aziraphale couldn’t help but shiver. It felt so prophetic, as if Agnes was speaking to him. It could very well be, for Agnes had spoken to him before. With slow steps, Aziraphale walked over to the fallen, unlit candle, and picked it up. He carried it over to the next lit candle and put the wick in the lighted flame, lighting the candle again. “What does it mean, Agnes?” he murmured, carrying the candle back to its proper place. The fireplace, its heart once burning bright, was now down to its embers. Aziraphale frowned. He was sure that the fireplace had enough wood to last him quite a while longer, but it seemed as if that wasn’t the case. He walked across the room to the fireplace, ready to put more wood and stoke the fire.

He leapt back. “Oh my dear Lord!” Aziraphale cried out, his hand flying to his chest. He stared at the gruesome sight in front of him.

There was…a skeleton with wings, sitting on the floor by the fireplace. The skull stared back at him and smiled grotesquely. There were no feathers on the wings, just its skeletal frame, and the skeleton was wearing Gabriel’s clothes.

“Oh my God, oh my God, I think that is Gabriel,” Aziraphale said. His breath quickened until he was panting, staring at the skeletal body of an angel. “I didn’t even know angels could die.”

The fire died down, and Aziraphale loathed to go near it to stoke it up again. But in the shadows, the sinister presence he felt earlier as he entered his bookshop this morning was back, and he was...anxious. There was something in his bookshop who can kill angels, and it’s evil, and Aziraphale does not know a single thing as to what it was.

“Whoever you are, I am onto you!” Aziraphale said as confidently as he could. “So, come out and face me!”

Nothing happened.

“I am the angel Aziraphale, and I stopped Armageddon, so do not cross with me, or I shall take drastic action!” Aziraphale continued. Oh, how he  _ wished _ he had his flaming sword. “Come out and face me, demon!”

“What?”

Aziraphale didn’t scream, not at all, leaping into the air and staggering backwards. He quickly sidestepped away from Gabriel’s dead body.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said severely, although it came out more relieved than angry. “Where have you been, demon?”

“Oh,” Crowley sputtered, blowing air through his closed mouth so that his lips flapped. “I’ve been out and about, learning new things about the universe that God had given us and all. And I changed my Bentley into a TARDIS.”

“A what?”

“A TARDIS!” Crowley replied excitedly. “It’s a ship that stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space! I’ve been able to travel everywhere in the universe, now I can travel through time as well!”

“You have been missing for  _ days,  _ demon!” Aziraphale hissed.

“What day is it?”

“It’s a Thursday, and I have a dead angel in my bookshop, demon!” Aziraphale cried. “Heaven is going to be absolutely furious with me because I have a  _ dead _ angel in my  _ bookshop _ , and I have no idea how that happened! What am I going to do? _ ” _

Crowley flapped his hand carelessly. “Just miracle him away,” he offered. “He isn’t as important as my TARDIS. Look, let me take you on an adventure, and you can go  _ anywhere.” _

Aziraphale wanted to strangle the demon. “But it’s an angel, a dead one, in my bookshop! We can’t just miracle him away. It doesn’t work like that! And what about the evil presence in my workshop? What are you going to do with that?”

“What evil presence?”

“The evil presence that ate Gabriel, for goodness sake, demon!” Aziraphale snapped.

Aziraphale watched as Crowley inhaled, his shoulders lifting up as he did so, and he said slowly, “Show yourself.”

There was nothing, but Crowley tilted his head as if he was feeling something or listening to something that Aziraphale couldn’t hear. Crowley opened his mouth, tasting the air, then he smacked his lips and opened his eyes.

“It’s the Vashta Narada,” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale frowned, and his eyebrows scrunched together. “The what now?”

“Vashta Narada,” he repeated. “It’s a...spore, I guess you could say. Lives in densely populated forests, becomes a hive mind and eats flesh when they are collected in highly concentrated areas. It ate Gabriel because he’s flesh. And also he really likes... pornography.” Crowley trailed off at the end, confused. “Since when did angels like pornography?”

“Don't ask,” Aziraphale grumbled. “But back to the forest thing. There are no forests in my bookshop, so whatever this...Vashta Narada is, I don’t think that’s it.”

“No,” Crowley corrected. “Your books are the forest, so they have infected the entire bookshop.”

“How?”

Crowley hummed thoughtfully. “Did you get any weird books in here recently?” he asked slowly.

“As a matter of fact...no. There’s no way,” Aziraphale denied. “I got  _ Even More Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter. _ But there is no way  _ that _ book infected my bookshop.”

“Let me see,” Crowley demanded.

Aziraphale wanted to be selfish and not show him, hiding it away in secrecy so that no one knew that he had the book. But the evil presence did not go away, and Aziraphale was starting to feel scared because he noticed that the shadows on the wall were moving, where there was not supposed to be shadows moving. “Demon, what is happening,” he asked fearfully, pointing with a shaking hand to the wall.

Crowley turned around. “Oh no you don’t,” Crowley growled. “You are in league with Lucifer’s troops, and I am as well, so you can’t eat me. You can’t eat the angel I am protecting because if you do, I will be very,  _ very _ cross with you.” The shadow on the wall stopped moving, and Aziraphale breathed a quick sigh of relief.

“Here,” Aziraphale said, picking up the book off his desk. He reluctantly handed it over to Crowley’s waiting hands.

Crowley considered it carefully, holding the tome with gentle and caring hands, as if he understood the importance of the book. In fact, if Aziraphale was a betting  man angel, he would bet that Crowley knew exactly how much the book was worth. Or they have been hanging out too long with each other and Crowley knew just because he was his oldest and dearest friend. Crowley nodded, brushing his hand down the spine. “Yes indeed, angel. The Vashta Narada had come in with this book. The pages are all made out of the trees from where the Vashta Narada grew, and the spores had infected all your books. Your bookshop is not safe.”

Aziraphale whined. “Is there anything you can do to fix it?”

“Fire,” Crowley decided. “But I know how much your books mean to you, so that’s out of the question. So, here’s the deal, Vashta Narada. While you live here in my angel’s bookshop, you will protect him and anyone who does not hold ill will to my angel. You may eat all others who wish to hurt my angel, but never my angel and anyone under his protection. For if you do, I will hunt you down, and I will destroy you. Do you understand me?”

There was silence in reply, but Crowley nodded all the same. Aziraphale asked, hesitantly, softly, “Demon?”

“They’re not going to hurt you.”

“But what about Gabriel? He is still dead.”

“Discorporated,” Crowley said, “He’ll be fine. Just his body is unusable anymore. You might be in big trouble next time you return to Heaven, but that’s a small price to pay for the protection you get from the Vashta Narada.”

“I don’t need protection,” Azirpahale insisted. Crowley gave him a  _ look _ but said nothing. He didn’t need to. Finally Aziraphale muttered, “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything,” Crowley said amusedly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “You should come and travel with me angel. Time and Space, wherever you want, it’ll be fun!”

“But, my bookshop!”

“Your bookshop can close for a day, angel. I’ll bring you back tomorrow morning. Don’t forget, my spaceship is a timeship too. It’ll be fun to travel the universe with you. There’s so many things I want to show you, so many things I want us to learn together,” Crowley looked at him with soft eyes, ones that he only gave to Aziraphale. He implored, “Please angel?”

Aziraphale huffed. “Fine. But bring me back tomorrow morning.”

Crowley grinned. “I promise. You’ll enjoy the trip, angel. Lord knows you have been working so hard. You could certainly use this break.”

Aziraphale followed Crowley to the door before he stopped. “What am I going to do with Gabriel?””

Crowley stopped and looked back, past Aziraphale, where the skeleton was still lying beside the dead fireplace. He snapped his fingers, and the body was gone. “There,” he said. “Now can we go?”

There was a police box sitting out on the curb in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop. He stared at it, before he said flatly, “Are you serious, demon. You traded your Bentley for a police box?”

Crowley scowled. “Shut up angel, and get in the ship.”

Aziraphale laughed before he looked at his bookshop. “Keep the place safe,” he said to the doors.

There was no answering reply, but he somehow knew that the Vashta Narada heard him anyway. Aziraphale pressed his hand to the door of the police box and opened it, where Crowley was waiting inside.


End file.
